


Uncomfortably Numb

by Chaz_1789



Series: Rules Meant To Be Broken [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Destiel - Freeform, High School Student Castiel, High School Student Dean Winchester, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Sex Worker Castiel, and feelings, they're both seventeen, this started as PWP but is now officially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaz_1789/pseuds/Chaz_1789
Summary: Warning: More pine than IKEA! Cas is hiding, Dean is moping and shit hits the fan...





	Uncomfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, this does not make sense as a standalone - please read the previous parts unless, you know, you're really into confusing non-linear stories. Then go for it. POVs start to intertwine from this point.

A whistle blasted shrilly.

"Winchester!"

Dean swiveled round to Coach Turner, who was glowering at him.

"You mind if we interrupt your personal reflection time to practice?"

He blushed. "Sorry coach," Dean mumbled as he turned back to the rest of his team. He'd caught a glimpse of a dark head and a familiar hoodie crossing the parking lot by the field and he couldn't keep himself from looking, from hoping it would stop and turn and catch his eye.

Cas had been avoiding him like a pro. The freakin' ninja managed to stay invisible ninety percent of the time. The only times Dean spied him were during some of the classes they shared and once briefly at lunch when he'd slipped into the cafeteria, but had vanished into thin air as soon as Dean had moved to talk to him. It was Friday, and he'd been expertly evaded the whole week - that kinda hurt.

And yeah, Dean knew it was dumb to try and talk to him again. Cas had been pretty clear back in the locker room, and no, Dean didn't know what he was gonna say if he did manage to get Cas alone but...he still felt like some stuff just needed to be said. Plus searching for the killer dark hair, blue eyes combo seemed to be his eyeballs' new vocation. A non-optional one.

Dean was self-aware enough to admit to that he didn't have the balls to talk to Cas in front of anybody at school for a very specific reason, though. He was paranoid that if someone saw them interacting that they'd be able to see what was up, that somehow Dean's crazy attraction to Cas would glow like some kind of queer aura around him. He was even semi-convinced that his dad and Sam could tell something was up, because Dean had spaced out more than a couple of times at home.

Dean's entire last weekend had been spent at work, (which was only marginally better than driving Sam to Wichita for the tricounty sciencey-history-somethingorother the weekend before) fidgety, distracted and sullen, so much so that Bobby had sent him home early on Sunday afternoon telling him, "You're use to exactly nobody with your head up in the clouds and I ain't cleaning up your blood if ya hurt yourself."

He didn't particularly want to use this word, but Dean may have possibly been...pining. A little.

On Tuesday Lisa B had stopped by his locker, flashing a wide smile and asked him in that straightforward way of hers if he fancied coming over to 'study'. They'd 'studied' together before, a few times actually – Lisa was a cheerleader who did yoga, and _boy_ did that lend itself to some interesting positions! – and she was stunning and confident and nice.

But the first thing Dean did when she suggested it was picture Cas. Cas looking at him with heavy-lidded stunningly beautiful blue eyes and a small smirk playing on his gorgeous pink mouth. Dean automatically cast his eyes about the hallway to see if Cas was around and felt sinking disappointment when he couldn't find him.

"Dean?" Lisa had said, looking a little confused.

"Uh, sorry, um...I'm actually all caught up, Lis, thanks," he'd said, before hurrying off quickly to his next class. And only later that day had he realized that he'd turned down a wild night of bendy carnal debauchery with Lisa Braeden without so much as a second thought. That was...unlike him to say the least. He was in deep shit; he was _really_ pining.

" _Winchester!_ "

"Yeah, sorry coach," Dean huffed as he ran back to center field and tried to direct his mind anywhere but towards Cas.

"Get your head outta your ass and pull your weight, dude," Gordon jibed, nudging him with an elbow.

"You get _your_ head out of _your_ ass..." Dean attempted to snark back. Okay, maybe comebacks weren't his strong suit. So instead he chucked the ball at Gordon's head.

— – - • - – —

Cas appreciated his experience blending in at his old schools now, because it meant that he could avoid the torture that would be talking to Dean again. Not torture because Dean was boring or unpleasant, no, it was torture because all the things Cas would have to say to him were the polar opposite of what he _wanted_ to say.

Finally though, it was the weekend again. Last weekend he'd found a new spot to work, near a gas station. It was, if possible, even skeezier than Axel's place, but money was money, no matter how grease-stained. Finding somewhere to locate himself so as to not be under a CCTV camera was getting damn hard these days too. He'd blown a few guys in the grotty bathroom there. One dude had taken Cas to his car –which Cas had simply noted was nowhere near as nice as 'Baby'– to fuck him. It had been brusque and wholly unsatisfying, at least for Cas, the guy hadn't even bothered with a reach-around. Probably for the best though as Cas didn't get hard at all; the experience in total contrast to when Dean had been with him.

Another customer had wanted to kiss him, and Cas had given him the standard turn-down, but his brain had been screaming the whole time that there was only one person who got to do that! Which was ridiculous, becuase there wasn't. He wouldn't do that any more, Cas had made sure of it.

This was getting crazy out of hand though. Thoughts of Dean kept interfering with his work, which was making it difficult to pull out any good moves. Or make eye contact. Or do anything apart from close his eyes and pretend it was Dean he was with. But that was dumb and impossible. None of the johns felt like Dean, or touched him the same way and none of them had that smell. The one that was like the earth but also cars and leather and warm masculinity.

Wow, three encounters and he was ready to write poetry. He was _pathetic_.

But no matter how difficult, no matter how uncomfortable, he worked through that weekend, and the next one too. He was determined this time to stay ahead of the rent and keep it out of reach of sticky maternal fingers (Cas had to laugh at himself: _Maternal_. What a joke).

He'd snagged an empty light-bulb box from the trash. He figured it was about as nondescript a hiding place as you could get. So Cas put what cash he earned in it and hid it behind one of the few books he had on his shelves. He loved to read when he could, and he'd taken these books without batting an eye. The libraries were never gonna see them again, but, Cas reasoned, they could afford to buy more. It was unlikely he'd be chased up – some of them were from at least four or five moves back.

It was Sunday, and after two weekends concerted effort he was almost there with the rent, if he was careful they'd also have a decent amount of grocery money too. Cas zipped up his tight jeans, loaded his pockets with condoms, spritzed himself and laced up his boots. His mom barely seemed to notice as he left through the back door, but then, he wasn't made of glass and filled with booze, so he wasn't really worth her attention.

As he stood there, sickly orange light swathing him, he wondered what Dean would think if he met Cas here. Would he try and hire him? Would Cas turn him down? He was starting to doubt by this point that he was physically _capable_ of turning Dean down.

There were fairly slim pickings this evening. Although that could've been something to do with the fact that when Cas could pull his thoughts together enough to scope out potential clients he wouldn't put his all into it and get swiftly distracted by thinking of Dean again.

But then there was a guy, coming around the corner for a smoke. Maybe a bite here. If Cas had been paying more attention he would have noticed the slight sway in the man's gait. Would've grasped that he was past the point of intoxication that Cas was usually comfortable dealing with in clients.

But he didn't. If he had, he may have avoided the fist that swung at him in the half dark.

— – - • - – —

Monday morning Cas looked rough. He seemed tired enough that he'd even given up trying to avoid Dean as thoroughly as usual, given that Dean had actually spotted him by his locker. First period, English Lit, he was laying with his head on his arms slumped forward over the desk.

Feeling guilt well up within him Dean swallowed his paranoia, ignored the prickling on the back of his neck and the voice in his head that told him he was _so obvious_ , and walked up to Cas, hands in his pockets as he approached. As he reached the table Cas stirred and looked up, looking unsurprised to see Dean. And that was when Dean noticed the angry dark red mark against the left side of Cas's jaw. Dean froze.

"Cas, what–" He tried to breathe. "Y–Your face, are you okay?"

Cas looked confused for a moment before raising a hand to his reddened jaw, seeming to remember. "Yes," he said quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine I just...lost a fight with a door." He tried to smile, it looked a bit painful.

Now, to be fair, Dean had received worse injuries by far doing sports, but it was the fact that it was Cas's face with that mark on it, the fact that Dean just _knew_ he'd got it from a person's fist that sent Dean's blood simultaneously boiling with protective anger and sub-zero with abject fear. Cas was in physical danger – and he was powerless to help. A chump who couldn't do anything worthwhile.

"If I see that door I'll kick its ass," Dean pathetically attempted to joke. Cas huffed a small laugh.

"I'll be sure to tell it."

They exchanged small, awkward smiles for a moment, until, "Dean."

Dean turned, Gordon was calling him over to his desk as Mr Shurley entered the room. Reluctantly he walked back to his seat, throwing just one more look back to Cas, who returned it. But for the rest of the lesson, instead of discussing Of Mice and Men like he was supposed to, Dean sat and planned.

After catching Cas's eye once more on his way out of the classroom, and his stomach shriveling at the sight of that shiner again, Dean was resolved. At recess he sauntered nonchalantly down to the front of the school, approaching the Reception office and its blonde occupant with not a little trepidation.

He hated being called pretty. He really did. Many people chose to call him that, not least the receptionist, Ms Masters, and Dean normally detested it. But his pretty face was about to get him vital information – so he would live with it.

— – - • - – —

"...and Jo is having a birthday party next week. Can I go? Please, oh please?" Cas herded his excitable little sister in through the front door, sighing fondly at her chatter. She really seemed to be getting on with this Jo kid.

"I can't see why not," he said, shrugging. "As long as you were invited. Because crashing an eight year old's party is just tacky, Anna." She giggled. They walked into the sitting room and something felt off. Cas looked around. There were a couple of packing boxes opened up that hadn't been before, nothing too unusual, but Cas still felt uneasy. "Why don't you go get a head start on your homework, bean?" Cas said, smiling down at Anna, "And I'll make a start on dinner soon. Just give me a shout if you need any help."

And once she'd shuffled off to her room Cas had a closer look around. It seemed that almost all the boxes had been searched through, from the looks of it, in a hurry. He went into the tiny kitchen and saw drawers left half open, cupboards too. Their mother's absence from the house was now conspicuous. Panic starting to rise, he strode through to her room, which was of course empty and finally, turned to his own door, which was ajar.

He stepped into a catastrophe.

His room was in complete disarray. Every surface had been searched, every drawer ransacked, his mattress stripped and moved, his clothes thrown onto the floor.

And his light-bulb box resting atop the detritus... empty.

He stooped to pick it up off the floor feeling like he might pass out. Cas sat heavily on his disheveled bed. He sat there for a long time. A long, long time. Oppressive, thick white-noise pushed against his ear drums, making him feel like his head might start fuming at the pressure. His chest was being crushed under an invisible hand.

What...what the fuck was he going to do?

He felt (and it was rare these days) like a small child. Helpless and desperate, so very _desperate_ for a parent to swoop in and save the day, to tell him how to fix this. He just wanted an adult to save him. Wanted to let go of this burden for just a day.

He didn't know how long it'd been when he heard a firm knocking on the front door. His instinct was to run to it – it might be the cops coming to tell him that something had happened to his mom. He reached the door and swung it open, to reveal...

"Dean!" Cas would've been embarrassed at how his voice shook if he weren't so distraught and confused right now.

"Hey, Cas," he said rubbing the back of his neck.

"How did you get this address?"

"Honestly, not in a way that's entirely on the up and up. Let's just say it's a good thing the school receptionist likes me," Dean said, trying to smirk, but instead looking sheepish. "I wanted to see if you were okay..."

"Now's not a good–"

"Cas?" He turned at the sound and Anna stepped into the front hallway, looking at Dean curiously.

"Uh, Anna this is Dean, a...friend," he stuttered out. Anna gave a small smile but she still looked worried.

"Hello," she said politely before turning to Cas again, brows knitted. "Where's Mommy?" And his day was just hyper-speeding from awful to tragic.

"She's...she's just gone out for a bit and..." he couldn't find a good lie that would hurt her the least and reveal nothing to Dean.

"Has Dean come over for dinner?"

"Well, that's up to Cas," added Dean in a kind voice. Cas shot him a look as he stood innocently in the doorway. And, fuck it. He was so stressed right now that having someone around to distract Anna from their lack of mom would mean just a bit less of a lead weight on Castiel's shoulders.

"Yes, he is."

"Cool. I haven't met one of Cas's friends before. I didn't think he had them," she said in that fabulously blunt way that eight year olds have.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Anna. Do you think we should help Cas here with the cooking?"

"He says he prefers cooking on his own, he gets funny about it–"

" _He_ is still standing right here," glowered Cas.

"But we can play something while he does, if you want?"

"Games instead of cooking? Yeah, I'm up for that," Dean smiled at Anna and then turned that smile on Cas before shuffling inside. Cas finally closed he door and watched Anna take Dean into the lounge and show him the cardboard box full of games they had yet to unpack, with an unfamiliar warmth edging in on his distress.

He moved into the kitchen and checked through the barren, haphazard cupboards with sweaty palmed hands. Knowing that Dean was entertaining Anna, however, made it easier for Cas to compartmentalize like a champ and throw his game face on. Feed Anna, set her down, then deal. Priorities.

He slung together a tuna casserole from what ingredients he had in the cupboard and, after setting it going in the oven, walked into the sitting room where Anna and Dean were sat on the floor, using a packing box as their games table. Cas took a seat on the couch and watched them.

"Wait, so I'm not trying to kill you with the plague?"

"No! We're a team against the diseases!" Anna cried, as Dean pulled an exaggerated confused face.

"But what if I wanna defect and work on the side of the diseases? These lil' cubes do look pretty tasty."

He lifted a small, bright red, translucent plastic cube slowly to his open mouth and Anna squealed, giggling, "No, you can't eat that!" Dean's face broke and he joined in the laughing as Anna set the little cube back on the game board that was a map of the globe with certain cities highlighted. "Are you going to take your job as Medic seriously?" she asked sternly.

Dean turned to Cas for the first time, smiling. "What'dya think, Cas? Could I be a badass medic? A regular Dr Sexy?"

Cas snorted. "I can't believe you watch that dreck...but no, you don't have the cowboy boots to pull it off."

"Oh, _now_ who watches dreck?!" Dean said in mock outrage. "If you'll excuse me, my Quarantine Specialist needs me," he huffed and turned back to Anna who was grinning at the two of them.

A curl of warmth wrapped up his insides as he watched his baby sister and Dean start to play the game, with Anna explaining their moves and making suggestions for strategic plays several moves ahead too. She really was a smart one. Cas's roiling fear was easier to squash while watching such innocent joy unfold; Dean was great with her. He wouldn't have pegged Dean as someone who was good with kids but, here he was. Anna was loving his attention and goofy jokes.

Every now and then Dean would turn mid-laugh to smile at Cas, and Cas couldn't contain the hot swoop of pleasure that filled him every time he did. It was unfair, not to mention scary, all the things that Dean made him feel. Especially since he knew what Cas was, had been brushed off, and yet was still here, having gone out of his way to get Cas's address, apparently just to see if he was alright.

A dark corner of Cas's mind – the one that had to deal with the harsher realities of human behavior – supplied that Dean was still probably hoping to get laid; just playing nice, angling to use Cas as a free fuck, seeing as Cas'd already gone and proved that he was willing to drop to his knees for Dean pro bono. But Cas pushed that thought away. Nothing he'd seen from Dean so far had suggested he would ever do something like that. Not to mention, he was choosing to entertain Anna instead of bug Cas. Cas knew he was far too cynical, but it was kind of inevitable, he reasoned, given his life.

The game continued, with Dean getting increasingly more into it, panicking over the growing number of yellow disease cubes gathering in South America, and Cas watched with a smile until his alarm told him it was time to check the food. After determining it was done, Cas gathered plates and cutlery for the three of them, dished it up and took it through to the sitting room. The place came barely furnished, so they'd be eating on their laps tonight, or using another packing box.

Dean didn't seem to mind in the slightest and tucked into the food with enthusiasm.

"Wow," he said thickly, through a mouthful of casserole, "this is really good."

Cas blushed. "It's nothing fancy," he muttered, "didn't have much to work with." He'd used a can of chicken soup, a can of tuna and the remaining pasta they had to make it. Plus a couple of odds and ends in the fridge that needed using up (he knew full well not to waste whatever food they had).

"Seriously, this is great," Dean repeated, "I ain't keen on fancy, anyhow."

"I think Cas can make anything taste good," piped up Anna, shoveling food onto her fork. "Except Brussels sprouts," she added, pulling a face.

"In his defense, _nobody_ can make those taste good," Dean said. "Only good for rabbits. Not warriors saving the earth like you and me." Anna beamed at him.

They finished their food, and Cas collected their plates as Anna and Dean resumed their efforts to save humanity from extinction by colored cube. Cas left the washing up for later, deciding instead to spectate the rest of the game. Anna was getting quite excitable, and due to his panic earlier, he'd not checked to see if she'd completed her homework for this evening, so he'd need to make sure she was calmed enough to sleep and prepared for the next day too.

As it turned out, humanity was doomed.

"Ah, so close! It was that last outbreak that got us," griped Dean.

"Can we play another one, Cas? We almost won, just one more disease to cure!" Anna pleaded excitably.

"No, Anna, enough games for tonight. It's bed in an hour and did you finish all your homework already?" The look he got in return was answer enough. "Yeah, I didn't think so," said Cas.

"Could I do it in here with you guys?" she asked, hopefully. Cas cast a glance at Dean who shrugged good-naturedly.

"Okay," Cas sighed, "bring it in here then."

Forty minutes later, with both Dean and Cas helping her, Anna's homework was finished and she had begun to yawn widely. Cas managed to get her into bed, bribing her with a bedtime story. After only a third of George's Marvellous Medicine, Anna had dropped off and Cas was grateful that the excitement of meeting Dean seemed to have tired her out. He emerged from her room, closing the door quietly.

"Sammy used to love Roald Dahl," said Dean from the couch as Cas approached. "Still think that guy's a sociopath masquerading as a children's author, though. I mean who writes this shit for kids?"

"You're telling me you didn't find the grotesque amusing as a child?" retorted Cas.

"Still find it kinda funny now, to be honest."

Cas chuckled softly, but felt his nerves jangle to life again without the distraction of Anna, with just Dean and himself alone now.

"Who's Sammy?" asked Cas as he perched on the arm of the couch. Dean's eyes warmed.

"My little brother," answered Dean, smiling. "Although he's getting less little by the day. Already in ninth grade. I still remember changing his diapers."

"You changed them? You must have been pretty young to do that..."

Dean looked away, so Castiel couldn't see his expression, but from the slight tightening of his shoulders Cas could guess it wouldn't be happy. Way to go, Cas, that'd taken less than a minute. He was about to open his mouth to change the subject when Dean beat him to it.

"Those dishes ain't gonna clean themselves," he said, sounding pretty normal. "Come on, you wash, I'll dry." And with that Dean stood and strode into the kitchen. The previous easing of his anxiety vanished, and Cas began to wish for Anna to wake up and disturb them, just so they'd have a buffer again. So Cas could have a distraction.

He walked to the sink, which Dean was already filling with water and donned a pair of rubber gloves. Cas began to clean the dishes and, armed with a towel, Dean dried them then stacked them neatly on the counter. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable. Cas's mind drifted back to his mom and the empty light-bulb box – his casserole wasn't sitting so well anymore.

"Sorry," said Dean suddenly. "Didn't mean to get weird. But, thanks, by the way. For dinner. For letting me in. I know I didn't give you any warning," Dean babbled on, "although I don't have your number, so I couldn't really, but I didn't wanna just leave things as they were, after we... and at school you've been– which I get, I really do, but I–"

"Why are you here, Dean?" Cas cut across Dean's ramblings. He didn't say it cruelly, he was just genuinely confused and very tired.

"Because maybe I wanna get to know you more. Even if we don't, even though we're not...I just wanna get to know you," he shrugged. Dean looked like he might've been about to say something else too, but didn't continue. Cas sighed.

"Most guys don't wanna know what I'm like. They pay for a body to use or play pretend with. I'm usually pretty good at staying a featureless void they can project onto."

"Usually?"

 _But then of course you came along_ was staunchly what Cas didn't say. "You don't want to hear about my depressing ass life, Dean."

"I do." Dean looked at him. "You know, if you wanna tell me," he added quickly.

Cas stared down at the dishwater. Why the fuck did Dean want anything to do with him? He was a dirt poor hooker, with a bad personality, warm as a rattlesnake, and more personal baggage than would fit on a Boeing 747.

But the rising anguish was beginning to force up the lid he'd crammed down on it, and he knew that he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. He just knew it. Not standing here washing dishes with Dean in this painfully domestic tableau.

"She's gone. Our mom. I don't know where and I don't know for how long but–" he took a breath "–but I know it'll be a while because she's got near enough a full months rent, which I swore I'd hidden, Dean, I hid it! I don't know how the hell she found it! I worked and saved and _hid_ and she's gone and what the fuck do I tell Anna? What do I say to the landlord? What if this one's the time she doesn't come–"

His throat closed up, choking back the rest of his words. Words which, ill chosen, panicked and far too raw though they may have been, had filled the silence that now hung heavy over both of them. He blinked his eyes dry again, in a depressingly familiar motion.

"Did your mom give you that mark?" Dean's voice was tense with barely restrained anger as he asked. Cas huffed a breath.

"No. No, this was... work related." It wasn't common, but it also wasn't unheard of for his mom to take a swing at him when she was wasted, usually if he was trying to confiscate whatever she was drinking.

A wave of sheer exhaustion engulfed him then, subsuming the panic. It was almost a relief, but it was also terrifying. It felt like giving up.

Cas thought he was like that dumbass cat on that dumbass motivational poster, 'Hang in there'. He too was hanging by his fingernails, feeling like he would lose his grip any moment.

He breathed deep as his hands clamped down upon the edge of the sink involuntarily.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered, feeling torn open as he admitted his weakness.

A warm hand rested on Castiel's shoulder and he was so unused to being physically comforted that he flinched slightly, the familiar high thrum of worry taking charge of him once more. Dean withdrew his hand, looking guilty, his green eyes wide.

"Sorry, if that was outta line, I–"

And something snapped in Cas. He acted on instinct. He grabbed the front of Dean's worn leather coat and dragged him forcefully into a bruising kiss. His head was a whirlwind of anxiety and emotions, urging him to reach for something to ground him, something, _anything_ to feel good.

It was sudden, Dean was shocked. Cas knew he was sending mixed messages but right now, just this second he needed Dean to be touching him more than he needed oxygen in his lungs. Anything to take him away from this.

"Dean, I..." he began once they'd parted, "I need this, just...can we do this just for tonight? _Please?"_

Cas knew it was asking a lot, knew Dean had every right and reason to tell Cas to fuck off, but Dean hesitated for only a second before he had mercy on Cas and kissed him again, deep this time, his tongue plunging in to run along Cas's. Their arms gripped vice-like around each other – the desperation was palpable, from both of them. Cas clung on, fingers fisting in the material at Dean's back.

Kissing Dean felt like coming home. More like home than any of the scummy buildings they'd ever lived in.

Abandoning the unfinished dishes he dragged Dean into his small, cramped bedroom, too wound up to be embarrassed about the state of it and yanked off his jacket. They undressed quickly, saying nothing but meeting eyes the whole time. When their clothes littered the floor Cas fell onto the bed, pulling Dean on top of him. Cas was shaking slightly.

They didn't share another word. The warm, soft press of Dean's skin against his legs, hips, chest, felt like the only points in the universe still anchoring him down. That was until Dean leaned in and kissed him again, slower, sweeter, at which Castiel felt he might float away instead. Dean moved his body against Cas as they kissed and Cas felt the length of Dean slide against his lower abdomen, hard and hot, and suddenly, Cas wasn't sure how much slow or sweet he could take.

Castiel pulled back, reached into his nightstand and silently handed Dean a bottle of lube and nodded as he raised his legs. Dean still took his time though. He took Cas's lips again, then pressed a kiss to the crook of his shoulder, then collar bone, pec, nipple, rib, stomach, working his way down with soft movements which made Cas judder. When breath ghosted over his erection, he started, about to warn Dean not to do that unprotected, but Dean just propped himself up enough to flip the cap of the bottle and slick up his hand.

Dean opened him up with gentle fingers and Cas could've cried the moment that he was breached. Not from pain, but from the sweetness Dean showed in every single touch, every adoring stroke. And Cas would have to go without. After tonight this couldn't be his anymore. Cas knew they both understood what this was: A life-raft. A goodbye.

Dean gazed up at him questioningly when he sighed deeply, which Cas diverted his attention from by taking a condom out of his bedside drawer and handing it to Dean, who kissed his thigh once before sitting back on his haunches. Cas was given a fantastic view of his torso, of the lines defining his muscles under miles of tan skin, his flushed cock, just as perfect and beautiful as the rest of him. A thrill of anticipation ran through Cas as he looked at it.

Once suited up, Dean rose to press a long, tender kiss to Cas's lips. Cas grasped onto his broad shoulders, not wanting to ever let go of the kiss or this moment. Dean's hands ran all over Cas's body, mapping the whole thing, before caressing his thighs and pushing them up to hook Cas's legs over his shoulders. Why did Dean have to be so tender and considerate? Cas's heart didn't know whether to beat too fast or break. He grabbed a pillow while his hips were in the air and put it in place.

With a roll of his hips Dean ran his hard-on against Castiel's rim and caused his breath to hitch. Bottoming with Dean was different to how it had been with anyone else, and Cas, who'd been ambivalent about receiving before, now _ached_ to feel Dean inside him again. Reaching back, he guided Dean's cock to his entrance and bore down as far as he could, urgent and greedy, and Dean gave him what he wanted.

Castiel's body just swallowed him up and the wonderful, burning fullness chased away the last clamorings of anxiety in his head. This was what he needed. Dean was possibly all he'd ever needed.

Dean grunted as he bottomed out and Cas drank in as much as he could of the whole package that was Dean Winchester. Constellations of pale freckles adorned his shoulders, neck and face; Cas wanted to kiss each and every one of them. When Dean looked at him, he noted the small flecks of gold and brown in his forest green irises.

Then Dean moved; drew out, then rolled forward smoothly into Cas, and he closed his eyes against the feeling, against the perfect guy above him. And it totally wasn't because he might cry if he lost himself in green again.

It _wasn't_ because of that.

Cas let his head fall back on the pillow and was swept away in the base, visceral sensations warming him from where they connected. Each surge brought pleasure, ache, oblivion. He could hear Dean's deep breaths and feel them against his skin. Then a large, rough hand cupped the side of his head and against his better judgment Cas opened his eyes. He shouldn't have done that.

Dean's face was pink, pupils blown wide, looking at him like he'd never want anyone else, or maybe that's just how Cas's affection-addled brain interpreted it. Dean's thumb stroked gently across Cas's cheek and Christ, Cas was a fucking goner. When he'd thought Dean would be complicated he hadn't realized quite how much. But he couldn't close his eyes against that stare. Instead he clung to it, as hard as he clung to Dean's shoulders as they rocked into each other over and over, gazing into one another's eyes.

Their breathing got faster, a sheen of sweat now shining on their skin as they gasped, undulated, grasped and kissed. Cas felt his body hum with the tight pinch of tingles starting from deep within him, getting stronger and tenser as Dean continued to push into his body. Cas didn't want it to end, didn't want stop feeling this good, so he didn't reach for himself, just ran his hands into Dean's hair and dragged him down into filthy open-mouthed kisses.

When Dean leaned up slightly to get his hand on Cas's neglected dick, Cas caught his wrist, stopping him and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders again. He mouthed at a spot behind Dean's ear and rasped out, "Just fuck me."

Without a word, Dean complied. He buried his face against Cas's neck and held him tightly, snapping his hips forward. Cas tried to think of something boring to stave off his encroaching orgasm, but thinking was a damn tall order – he'd been pretty fucking surprised he'd managed words at all, if he was honest.

The pillow beneath his hips shifted under him and the movement caused their bodies to be almost flush together, which was much, much worse. Not worse as in bad, no, God no, worse as in _fucking amazing_. His aching, throbbing, desperate cock was trapped between them now and each roll forward pressed it between their abdomens, giving it that much desired pressure. This pressure increased along with the pace of Dean's thrusts, as they grew faster and less coordinated, the feeling was almost as good as if he was jerking himself off.

So Cas just held on, the center of his world zooming in to just the pressure building in his groin, drawing up his balls, and just as he thought he'd reached the precipice he couldn't cross without fisting his dick over that last bit, Dean groaned a broken, " _Fu-uck, Cas!"_ against his neck as he tensed over Cas, his hips not stopping, but their rhythm erratic – and Cas lost it.

Not as fast or as sudden as if he'd been beating one out, but hot, enveloping, almost wave-like as it filled him from his toes to his cheeks. His cock throbbed and he felt his come spill out, smearing between them as he climaxed beneath Dean. Hearing Dean say his name like that was so damn hot, and he only dimly registered the small slice of pain that occurred deep within him at the same time, quickly covered by his orgasm. He carried on burning and tensing and coming until Dean finally stopped moving.

Cas caught his breath in shallow gasps and heard Dean do the same, his brain full of molten color, pulse loud in his ears. He couldn't help but remember the last time, how Dean had cleaned them up, held him, how he'd fallen asleep cradled in the arms still braced either side of him now.

After an indeterminate while, Dean gingerly withdrew from Cas (which he knew was inevitable but still resented) and rolled onto his back beside him. Cas reached for the haphazardly thrown shirt that was hanging off his bedside lamp and rolled over to clean off Dean's stomach, his own, then removed the condom. The soiled shirt was then tossed aside.

Cas looked down at Dean who was still breathing heavily, his closed eyes flickering open after a few seconds. He reached up a hand and brushed his calloused thumb against Cas's cheek again, the gesture so sweet that it physically hurt. But before Cas could do something as humiliating as cry, Dean pulled him down against his firm chest and wrapped his arms around him.

They lay cocooned in each other for long enough that sleep threatened to take Cas away, but Cas didn't want to lose a second of this to unconsciousness. Dean stroked lazy patterns into his skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest hypnotic, his heartbeat tapping a strong rhythm against Cas's ear. Cas drew a shaky breath, the comfortable post-orgasmic haze thinning slightly now.

They were nearing the end of their escape, their vacation from reality. And Cas fucking hated knowing that. Maybe if he said the right thing it wouldn't be too bad, and Dean wouldn't realize what a selfish shit Cas had been to ask for this. He opened his mouth.

"It's late. Your parents might be worried."

He immediately shut his eyes and grimaced. Wow. Fucking smooth Cas. The gentle patterns being drawn on his arm stilled abruptly, then Dean was shifting Cas off him and getting to his feet. Cas sat up in the bed, looking at Dean's back as he redressed steadily. He wasn't rushing, he was just being very efficient...almost like this was business. Cas's gut curled. He bit his lip.

God, he was so damn bad at this people stuff! He could get a guy into bed but he couldn't find the right words for anything else. He was so close to asking Dean not to leave. Not to leave his room, not to leave him, not to leave ever. But then Dean had fully dressed, and made towards the door. He'd not yet looked back at Cas, who was still sitting naked on the mattress, hands fisted in the sheet covering him, silent.

But as Dean reached the door, he paused.

The silence stretched.

"If you asked me to stay, I would," came Dean's low rumble.

Cas considered it. He really did. In fact his head _screamed_ with it, begging and pleading clanging around his skull in a cacophonous din. But he didn't say a thing; not one word. And sure, it felt like a sword through the chest, but it could be worse.

Or maybe it couldn't.

Dean sighed and walked from the room, and Cas listened to the front door close with a sort of detached shock. Had this helped him at all? Was any of this worth what he was going through now? His bed now smelled of Dean. He could still taste him. He could still _feel_ him.

Cas didn't sleep that night. But he did lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening for any noise that may be his mom and repeating to himself all of the reasons that he couldn't make Dean happy. By dawn, he'd almost convinced himself that he'd done the right thing, and it was better this way. It was twisted reasoning, but it worked. Sort of.

By six a.m. there was still no sign of their mother and Cas rolled onto his feet to start readying breakfast for Anna. He would make it through another day.

— – - • - – —

"Where the hell you been, Dean?"

Dean froze in the doorway as his father's gruff voice startled him out of his funk. He looked up into the disapproving glare and tried not to shrink. Old habits though...

"I was at a friend's house, sir."

"It's gone damn midnight on a Monday! The hell do you think you're playing at, huh? I didn't raise you to pull crap like this."

He'd not meant to get home this late, he'd left Cas's place a while ago, but given the head-space he'd been in after that, he'd driven around in Baby for a while trying to figure shit out.

Then Dean noticed the mostly empty beer bottle hanging from John's loose fist. He guessed there might be a few more of those by the couch.

"No, sir. Sorry. I was just–"

"Can it, Dean, I don't wanna hear excuses," barked John. Dean tensed, he knew what might happen if this was more than beer number one or two. But his dad just sighed in a disgusted sort of way. "Just get to your room, and don't wake up Sammy." And with that his dad slouched angrily back into the den, taking a long pull from the bottle. Thank Christ. He'd dodged a bullet there.

Once in his room, Dean stood leaning against the door, staring into nothing.

He was not a smart guy. Sam was the brains of the family and Dean was nowhere near his league, just a grunt. A grunt with a modicum of common sense he'd previously thought. But he'd obviously been giving himself way too much credit until now because it turns out he's a fucking _moron!_

It wasn't even that he had managed to get himself in this ridiculous mess of a situation, which he couldn't tell anyone about because he'd not only broken the law, but would have to admit he was exactly the kind of son his father didn't want. No, he was a certified idiot because he couldn't even think about stepping away from this. _All_ he'd been able to think about was how he might be able to help Cas.

And for no reason that was sane. Cas wouldn't spill his secret: he knew that, that was no reason. He had only known Cas a few weeks – and even then 'known' was a pretty strong word – so that wasn't a good reason. He had nothing to do with Cas's trials or tribulations in any way, he had no reason to feel any responsibility whatsoever. He could just walk away. Should. But...

He sighed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was exhausted and worried and confused. But it seemed probable Dean was willing to go to the ends of the earth for Cas even after being brushed off...again. If this ended up just being a libido thing, he thought as he climbed into his own cold and lonely bed, he would legitimately cut his own balls off.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so two funerals into the year and I'm officially relieving myself of any guilt I might feel at getting these out super slow. But one bright spot in my days is seeing kudos and comments >.< seriously it warms the cockles of my rusty old heart. I'm so grateful to you champs who have followed the series thus far <3  
> (For anyone interested, the game Dean and Anna play is called Pandemic – I recommend it!)


End file.
